Pieces of What?
by Modern Physics
Summary: four times daniel almost remembers... and one time he does.
1. do you remember?

I.

It's sudden. It always is. The entire room spins violently out of control, lights shine brighter than usual and voices sound unrecognizable. Perhaps, he thinks about the last part, it's because they really are.

Now he's got that familiar ringing in his ears and its all he can do to slump down to the floor and hope it passes. He was so unreliable. _'Oh, make sure Dan does what he's supposed to do... he's likely to forget.'_ Not that it wasn't true but it still bothered him nonetheless. He should be capable of making his way to the control room without nearly blacking out, but yet he wasn't.

"Hey, Dan, you alright?"

His vision's still a little hazy, jagged white points crowd his surroundings. He's not exactly sure where the voice is coming from but he knows its near.

"Dan, can you hear me?"

A little closer than before he thinks. Whoever it is is all fire and light as far as he's concerned because he still can't really make out the shapes that make people distinctly human.

"Yeah... pretty sure." His reply is distant.

"Good, good. What happened then?"

He couldn't remember. He couldn't remember what he was doing, where he was headed, or what caused him to wind up on the cold steel floor.

"Never mind then, never mind. Easy question, how many fingers am I holding up?"

It's a she. He thinks he's onto something more but he's not fully there... yet. He's trying really hard to concentrate on the apparent hand in front of him but he keeps seeing flashes unrelated (he thinks) to where he is at the moment. Tall grass. A dark cave. A small community on an.... island?

"Come on Dan, you can do this. How many fingers?"

It takes so much effort to narrow his eyes and look directly in front of him. He could see clearly now, finally. But who was this woman? Why did she know his name? How did he know his own name?

"Three. Three fingers."

He could vaguely make out a smile on her face. It looked so familiar...

"Excellent. Now let's get you back to your room, yeah? I'll help you up."

She extended the same hand towards him, the one with the three fingers. He reaches for it and feels one step closer to where he started.


	2. the way we get by

II.

She rummages in the cabinet outside her room for a deck of playing cards she saw Frank put there the day before. She's never been one for games, whether they were card, board or make-believe. This, however, was more than just a simple pass-time.

She found the tattered deck underneath a couple old walkies and pulled it out, examining the cards. This would do, she decided.

_Knock, knock._

She was half expecting him to come to the door, she was half expecting that she'd have to open it herself. Thankfully, he did the opening. She didn't really like being so... severe with him all the time. It didn't feel right.

"Charlotte?"

She nodded as if he needed confirmation regarding her name.

"It's past one in the morning. What are you doing?"

She actually hadn't realized it was that late. Oh well, she was here now.

"You weren't sleeping were you? I didn't wake you?"

He raised an eyebrow and looked around out in the hall to see if anyone else was in the hallway.

"No, I couldn't. I mean, I can't. Did I wake you?"

She chuckled softly. "I'm the one knocking on your door so I think its safe to say that you didn't wake me."

He didn't catch on. "Right, right then. Is there anything I can do for you or...?"

Her smile dropped temporarily as she lifted the cards up so he could see them.

"Fancy a game?"

He stared at the deck, evidently trying to think of what they were. He had gotten pretty bad the last day or so she thought. It upset her a little and she wasn't quite sure why. If it was Miles that was blacking out and forgetting things she certainly would not be asking him to play Go Fish with her in the wee hours of the morning. In fact, she'd probably say it was good on him.

"I... I don't think I know... er, remember how. Sorry."

The look of embarrassment and confusion on his face was heartbreaking.

"No matter. I was actually thinking I could help you, you know, remember."

He looked up at her with a curious expression. She felt somewhat relieved.

"We'll play the match game. I'll lay a bunch of matching cards face down and you have to pair them up, one by one. You can only turn one card over at a time though so you have to remember where it's at. Think you can do that Dan?"

A little smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. "I'll try, sure."

--

She placed ten cards down on the bed. They had been playing for the last hour and neither had said anything about how late it was or how tired they were. They both just appreciated each other's company.

"You got them all! Excellent. You improved a lot just in that last hour."

She was rather enthusiastic about his progress, but why shouldn't she be? If he got better than the environment on the freighter got better and, well, everyone benefitted.

He smiled now and began to collect the cards and put them back in their box.

"Thanks for... thanks for everything, Charlotte."

She nodded and glanced at the cards going back into place one by one.

"No problem. Think it helped any?"

He was silent for a few moments. He stopped picking up the cards and lost himself in his thoughts for only a few seconds before turning towards her and grinning weakly.

"I'm not sure yet. It can't have hurt though, really."

She was satisfied with these results as she made her way down the narrow hall towards her room.

As he turned on the light above his bed and reached for his notebook, he couldn't help thinking he was beginning to remember some things.

There seemed to be a strong correlation between Oxford, the Anthropology Department, and the extremely intelligent woman he once had dinner with at a university function. It was a shame he was too nervous to ask for her number though, he thought.


	3. help, i'm alive

III.

It had happened again. And again, and again, and again. For a few moments he would feel alright, perhaps even normal, and then out of nowhere he would be struck by an overwhelming feeling of... well, forgetfulness that lasted hours at a time. So needless to say when he awoke to find himself inside of a crashed helicopter in the middle of a jungle he wasn't exactly sure if it was real or not.

_Waves. Salt. Sea. A boat. Cruise ship? No. Freighter? Yes, a freighter. Was I on it? Why was I on a freighter?_

He didn't even try to make sense of things anymore as he discovered it was rather useless. He just had to let things take their course and hope that in the end everything was the way it should be. It's not like he'd remember the events that brought him into his current situation... only the frustration and confusion would remain.

"What the hell happened."

A man's voice came out from inside the wreckage somewhere behind him. Apparently he was not alone on this mysterious voyage.

"I... I don't know. Where are we?" Dan knew he knew this person but didn't how how or from where. He figured it was probably in his best interest to answer him.

"Course, you never do. I don't know what they all see in you. Where's Frank?"

_Pilot. Hawaiian shirt. Frank. He remembered Frank._

"He's not here... think he's alright?"

The rather impatient man rolled his eyes and elbowed his way past Dan in order to look in the cockpit. "Uh, yeah I think he's fine. Look down."

He unbuckled the flimsy strap that still held him in place and peered out the front window along with the familiar man. The helicopter had landed in a tree about five feet from the ground. The pilot lay a few feet away from them and was now managing to sit up and examine his surroundings. It was dark and damp with showers that came and went faster than anything they had ever seen before. He didn't have to remember in order to tell that this place was indeed very strange.

"Hey Frank, you alright?" The man was attempting to open the large steel door to get out.

"Miles! I've been better. How about you?"

_Miles! Right. He remembered now. They hadn't gotten along so well back on the freighter._

"Good, I'm fine. Dan's still kickin' up here too. Is Charlotte down there with you?"

Silence. "No."

"Shit."

"Charlotte..." Dan says out loud to himself. Miles just stares and for a minute thinks he's going somewhere with the thought before finally unlatching the door and jumping out.

"Come on Dan, you can't just sit there. Charlotte and Naomi are out here somewhere."

He remembered the name and the accent but not the face or the person. There was something else there but he just couldn't grasp it. He felt anxious, scared and worried all at once but didn't know exactly why. He felt like he should because it was, after all, how he felt.

"Dan seriously, she's going to kick your ass when she finds out you didn't wanna join the rescue party. Get outta there."

He felt that bit was true too.


	4. in our defense

IV.

She was standing on the beach near the camp and looking out at the ocean. A pale hand was raised to shield her eyes from the harsh sun as she scanned the horizon for any sign of the boat. It's not like she was worried, really. She knew he was fully capable of doing what he set out to do. She was more anxious than anything, wishing to see the small speck of white and blue just to calm her racing pulse. That was it. Really.

"Where is he?"

She wasn't particularly fond of Miles. There was no logical explanation for it, she just thought he was too short with everyone for no real reason. They were all stuck on the same strange island.

"Who?"

She wasn't necessarily playing dumb. There were a bunch of other guys on the island and Miles could have been referring to any one of them... but of course, he wasn't.

"You know who. Is he off trying to save the day with his crazy ideas? The guy's insane, and not in a good way."

Charlotte had recently become defensive of Dan when she figured that he wouldn't stand up for himself. They'd all laugh at him back on the freighter after he'd leave the room and she couldn't believe it. These were grown men and women that had nothing better to do than belittle a colleague, an incredibly smart and capable colleague nonetheless.

"Actually he is. If he does end up saving your sorry ass then maybe you'll stop calling him crazy."

Miles thought about it for a second before laughing out loud and turning away, obviously heading back into the jungle to get some shade.

"Well I don't have to worry about because he's not going to... he screws everything up."

That was the last straw for Charlotte. She took several angry steps over to where Miles stood on the edge of the jungle, his backpack in hand. She towered over him, her eyes boring holes into him.

"We've been on this island for three weeks now and what have you done to help get us back home? Absolutely nothing. You're a complete and utter failure Miles. You truly are. But I guess the reason why you don't want to go home is because you've got nothing back there. Oi, you'll go back to talking to dead people I reckon. I can see why you're not anxious to get off this rock. Huh. Well, carry on then and I'll be sure to tell Daniel when he comes back not to save you a seat."

She turned around and stormed off along the beach, still watching among the broken waves for any sign of the small boat.

It wasn't his fault he doesn't remember, she thought. It was quite a few years ago... _No_, she thought more sternly, _he should remember_. She gave him as many hints as possible and yet nothing seemed to click. Was she really that forgettable? She didn't think so.

She met him at a university function several years back, was introduced by one of her colleagues. They sat together for dinner, joked about the attire of the guest speaker, and then wound up getting coffee together afterwards. They clicked well, or so she thought. She really hoped he'd see her again but after that she never rant into him around campus. And it wasn't just because they were in two clearly distinct departments. He spent all his time in the lab, bending the laws of space and time. She found it all rather interesting, well, that what he had discussed that one night. Every time she went down the corridor leading to his classroom there would be a sign on the door written in a hurried manner stating that he was at a meeting and would return at a later date. These 'later dates' only turned into more of the same excuses until finally... he was thrown out of Oxford. She never knew why. She never asked and he never told her. Some things were best forgotten... well, in his case, she thought, perhaps that wasn't exactly true. He needed to remember. Not everything, of course, but most things.

He failed to recognize her when he boarded the freighter, much to her dismay. She could see it in his eyes though sometimes when they talked or 'played cards' that he knew. He knew there was a past, although brief, between them. He just couldn't exactly remember.

What hurt her more, she supposed, was that this new 'past' they were still creating would be forgotten just as quickly.


	5. the resolution

VI.

"My head is killing me."

He spun around and saw her clutching the side of her head with one hand. A look of mild panic spread across his face before a small smile broke out.

"Want some aspirin?"

He produced a small bottle from the side pocket of his backpack and upon seeing her nod opened the top and poured one into her outstretched hand.

"Thanks, I appreciate it."

She rubbed her forehead with the back of her hand as the sun beat down upon the coast. He mumbled something that sounded like 'don't worry about it' as he rummaged around for his notebook that he carried with him at all times. She noticed this and decided it was of good a time as any to inquire about it.

"What's that?"

He looked up at her, almost blinded by the light.

"What's what?"

She tapped his bag with her foot. "The binder, or book, or whatever it is you write in. What's it for?"

He took it out, dusted off the imaginary dust from the front cover, and opened it up. She took this gesture as an invitation to sit down, which she did.

"It's just... you know, formulas and stuff. Nothing that you would find terribly interesting."

She raised an eyebrow at him in mock surprise. "Really? I see. Come on then, teach me some physics stuff. It's not like I've got anything better to do on this bloody island."

He smiled at her interest in his studies but shook his head. "No, really, I'm not in a state to be teaching much of anything."

Her smile faded slowly. "Oh."

"Have you been improving any lately? You know, remembering things?"

She was genuinely curious, unlike Miles who only asked to torment him. He liked that she cared. It felt... nice.

"Actually, kind of. I remember things in flashes sort of. So... well, I write them down in the back of this book."

She nodded and flashed him a little smile. "If you don't mind me asking," she said, a hint of nervousness in her voice, "what kind of things do you remember?"

He looked up at the leafy canopy that hung above them and then out at the ocean.

"Nothing much, small things... birthdays, phone numbers... the kind of things that aren't exactly useful on a deserted island."

She laughed and nodded in agreement, gazing at the tattered notebook that lie only inches away from her. She was curious... did she make the list?

"Do you remember anything about life before this place?"

She tried to say it in a casual manner but it didn't exactly come out the way she had hoped. He picked up on that too.

"Actually... a little, yeah."

She didn't want to get her hopes up too high only for them to come crashing to the ground seconds later.

"Oxford University, 2001. Board of Directors supper. The guest speaker was Harvey Kulkin and he was wearing red and blue plaid."

She beamed at him. "Amazing! I can't believe you... you remembered."

He managed another small smile and opened up the book to the last page, full of illegitimate scribbles and formulas which were half finished. Addresses, phone numbers and names of famous physicists litter the messy lines. He points his finger to a section boxed in by rows of ink and her eyes follow obediently.

It is here on this page she also sees her name, Charlotte Lewis.


End file.
